


The Letter

by Thefreakoutsideyourwindow



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Molestation, choo choo all aboard the angst train time to hit Ignis this time, the comfort will come muuuch later on, there will be mentions of rape but none of it happens in the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-13 00:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thefreakoutsideyourwindow/pseuds/Thefreakoutsideyourwindow
Summary: The first time Ignis meets the man, he is entirely innocuous.Ignis, of all twelve years, six months and eighteen days is there with his uncle, viewing the proceedings no longer as that of a child but as a budding advisor.When he is approached the next time, he is alone.---(First came the meetings, then the letters, and as Ignis gets trapped in a downward spiral he cannot help but question how he can escape someone he once thought kind).





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of hesitant to post this tbh. Rating starts K/Teen and moves up to graphic in later chapters. Author does not condone anything written. This is not exactly a happy story, but will have a resolution in the end. Currently working on chapter 2. Please heed the tags before reading.

 

 

The first time Ignis meets the man, he is entirely innocuous.

 

It is at a royal gala, ostentatious black, gold and blue streamers hang from the ceiling in an imitation of cheap paper (though Ignis knows that it would likely cost him a whole month of food). The dying light of evening seeps through the large glass windows in the ballroom, opaque curtains held back so that the visiting guests can see Insomnia light up as night settles, in all of her modern and techi-colour glory. Guests of all nobilities mingle around each other, hands equipped with the finest of wine or the sweetest champagne, the clicking of high heels mingling with that of the gentle tune of music, a live band playing Neo-Lucian tunes off to one side.

 

Ignis, of all twelve years, six months and eighteen days is there with his uncle, viewing the proceedings no longer as that of a child but as a budding advisor. He is in the middle of a discussion with visiting dignitaries from Accordo about the current tariffs on perishable imports when he is interrupted by a kindly looking older man, dark grey hairs on his head interspersed with many white.

 

"Excuse me, do you know the way to the balcony?" He asks, and then slights shrugs his shoulders in a small gesture of embarrassment, "I am afraid the last time I was here they did not use this ballroom."

 

Looking up to his uncle and quickly receiving approval, Ignis guides the man, "Take a left at the buffet table and then follow the path to the end. You should then reach the balcony fairly quickly."

 

Warmth lights the man's eyes and the corners crease, displaying many years of laugh lines and crows feet on the man's worn skin, "Ah, of course! Thank you for your help young man. And, if you do not mind me asking, is that a Tebebraen accent I detect?"

 

The comment, while in itself innocent, makes Ignis blush in shame. Thankfully, his uncle answers for him to spare him of any further embarrassment, "My nephew and I are from Tenebrae, though when I depart in a month, Ignis will remain here, as he is his Highnesses' future advisor." He then places a comforting hand on Ignis's shoulder, and explains, "Ignis is fully competent in Lucian, though the accent still lingers a bit."

 

The man quickly raises his hands in a placating gesture, "Oh, no - I mean no offence! My niece resides in Tenebrae, you see, and I was simply curious as to whether I was hearing similarities or making false connections." He then pauses, as if only just noting the other guests waiting for him to move on so they can continue their previous conversations. "Regardless, thank you for showing me the way. I shall leave you to enjoy the remaining festivities." the man finishes with grace.

 

Ignis responds quickly as ever, "Of course, sir. Please do enjoy the rest of the gala, Mr.-"

 

"Alfredo Incozzio," The man, Alfredo, interrupts Ignis (and Ignis is beginning to suspect that he has a skill at butting in) "Though you may call me Alfredo, if you so desire." Then, with a curt gesture, the man nods his head at them and makes his way to the balcony, walking confidently as conversation strikes up again with the guests, though Ignis does not truly hear them.

 

Looking back, Ignis will wonder whether Alfredo knew the way to the balcony from the start.

 

...

 

Unsurprisingly, the second time he meets Alfredo is at another gala, though this time he is alone.

 

 

Noctis has wandered off prematurely (no real surprise there) though Ignis does not let him out of his watchful gaze. Noctis may like to think that he has given Ignis the slip, but the buffet table does not make the best hiding spot, especially when one can see a small arm coming up from under the table to steal the occasional snack. From the exasperated look and hidden fond smile, Ignis is fairly certain Regis also knows Noct is hiding under the table.

 

Ignis has made it his priority to learn of as many reoccurring nobles to galas as possible (mostly so that he can prompt Noctis of their names if, no, when required) and so he spends most of the evening like he did the last gala, mingling with people well above his class and fetching them refreshments before they even think to ask. It is on his third visit to the drinks table, expertly picking up flutes of champagne and balancing them in his hands, that a semi-familiar voice accosts him.

 

"A little young to be drinking, aren't we?" the voice chuckles, and Ignis raises his head to look at its owner.

 

 _Alfredo_ , his mind instantly supplies, noting with mild confusion how his suit focuses on broad and sloping red sleeves, a more open air and casual outfit than what would be expected at a bowtie and gown event.

 

Reminding himself to fix a polite smile, Ignis replies, "Mr. Incozzio-"

 

"Alfredo, please, Ignis." He interrupts, smiling as he picks up a glass of rose wine and swirls it around, "Would it not be odd if I were to call you Mr. Scientia as a greeting?"

 

"Alfredo, then." Ignis concedes with a polite nod. "How pleasant to see you again. I can only presume you had a safe journey home last time?" Ignis asks, mentally keeping note of the people expecting him as the champagne begins to warm in his hands from close contact.

 

Alfredo chortles, completely at ease with small talk, apparently. "Oh safe enough, certainly. Most definitely more riveting watching the endless swathes of ocean pass me by than the vapid talk of nobles you must entertain, I presume."

 

Resisting a small smile, Ignis replies, "There is plenty to be learned from visiting dignitaries, otherwise why else may I stand here and speak to you?"

 

His boldness is rewarded with a booming laugh from Alfredo, "Quite so! Quite so, dear Ignis - I suppose such a remark is to be expected from my rude line of questioning." He flicks away a stray tear and, as if noticing for the first time that Ignis is holding rapidly warming flutes of champagne, he continues, "Ah but I best not let you dally, Astrals know the only reason they haven't slaughtered each other yet is because of the promise of alcohol. Have a good evening, Ignis, and if you take a swig yourself, I certainly shan't tell anyone."

 

With that he gives Ignis a warm and firm clap on the shoulder, Ignis only able to nod in response with his hands full, and watches as Alfredo strides away, not stopping to talk to anyone he walks past. Slightly perplexed but with other matters to focus on, Ignis returns to the group of nobles at hand and distributes the champagne to grateful looks, the conversation from before looping through his mind.

 

...

 

Ignis does not hear of Alfredo for quite some time after that. The seasons change from winter through to spring, Noctis remains resilient as ever against vegetables, Ignis continues on his strict lessons as advisor and further galas are held, and yet Ignis does not run into Alfredo again.

 

It is an early April morning, sunlight streaming through the tree branches near his window accompanied by the distant sound of birdsong as Ignis sits at his desk and reads through the letter his uncle sent him before he begins his daily duties. He skims his fingers across the well worn paper, tarnished through delivery across the continent when a brief rap at his chamber door startles him from his stupor.

 

"Come in." Ignis calls as he rises from his seat anyway, walking towards the door to find a young attendant with a letter in hand.

 

"A letter for you, Master Scientia." the girl chimes, handing over the envelope to Ignis.

 

"Thank you, miss-" the girl runs off before Ignis is able to properly reply and he sighs gently, closing the door so that he can return to his desk. Sitting down, Ignis turns over the envelope to find an unfamiliar address in slightly sloppy handwriting, the ink of his name and the citadel address smudged and faded slightly from harsh weather and handling. Ignis notes with some interest that the return address is that of Accordo.

 

Curiosity piqued, Ignis turns the envelope over to open the letter, seal already removed having gone through royal mail checkers to avoid plots being formed or illegal goods passing through. Soon enough, Ignis realises who the letter is from, and reads the handwriting with varied emotions:

 

Dearest Ignis,

 

I hope this letter finds you well, and presumably not waiting on any nobles at this given moment!

 

Ignis lets out a quiet laugh, expression easing at the lighter tone of the letter, and continues to read.

 

The weather in Accordo is still bitterly cold despite the turn of spring, though we rarely see snow so I can hardly find it in me to complain. I know the saying is that April showers bring May flowers, but there's about enough water the whole town would happily go cruising in every dingy available!

 

Ignoring my small talk (as I am certain you have better things to do than to read about the weather in Accordo) an interesting situation has been brought to my attention that I believe may be of use to you.

 

There is to be an open day in one of Accordo's top universities, Jervins, as I'm sure you are aware. Though you may be too young to attend, there is an open panel meeting next month where various dignitaries will be visiting to discuss how educational institutions vary in standards and funding over Lucis and what they may do to remedy this. I know not entirely what curriculum your position of adviser is required, but I wondered whether this may be applicable to your studies of Lucis as a whole.

 

I will, naturally, be in attendance and would be more than delighted if you were able to visit, though if not I completely understand, as one of your position cannot afford to leave on their own whim. Enclosed is an invitation to the meeting, if you are so able to pursue it.

 

Should the carriers have been so kind as to deliver this letter well, my return address is on the back. Feel free to write with any questions you may have - or nonsense, if you would prefer! I'm no doubt fairly certain that you are not allowed much time to entertain yourself, and I will happily lend an ear - or rather pen, in this case.

 

I shall cease my ramblings now, before my assistant wonders what on earth I am being paid for!

 

Wishing you all the best.

 

Ever yours,

 

Alfredo.

 

Ignis notes with amusement that Alfredo's looping signature takes up a large section of the bottom of the page, ever one for flamboyance. He returns to the tatty envelope in search of the invitation, only to come up empty. Bemused, Ignis checks the floor, and then opens his room door out into the halls, to see if the scurrying messenger dropped it in her haste, but no invitation is to be seen.

 

Repressing a noise of discontent, Ignis looks at his watch and notes it is well past the time when he would have left his dorm to being morning lessons. Immediate panic curling in his gut, Ignis quickly (but primly, an adviser should never look harried - his tutor's voice rings in his ears) strides back into his room. Grabbing his satchel Ignis hurriedly places the letter on his desk before making his way to his tutor's office, any thought of finding the invitation far from his mind.

 

...

 

It is only a week later, as Ignis is arranging and re-arranging the cutlery used at a royal wedding so that he may memorise the correct order, that the contents of the letter are brought up.

 

"I wasn't aware that you were corresponding with the Duke of Altissia, Ignis."

 

The comment makes Ignis startle, nearly dropping the oyster fork in his own surprise before he places it on the table in its correct place. Though fear of punishment stills his tongue (of what kind or for what reason, Ignis does not know) but confusion rules his mind and forces him to speak.

 

"I am uncertain as to whom you mean, Master Tacitus." Ignis says, uncertainty marred on his features as he moves from the table to face his tutor. Tacitus has always appeared strict and cold to the outside eye, only looking to his crisply and thin cutting tailored suit, the gel pull back of his dark grey hair in a widow's peak an intimidating addition to some. His beady brown eyes pierce through any lie, though Ignis has seen them lighten in praise and knows he wants only the best for him. Yet still his tutor's disappointment slices through him like a knife, and he can only hope to remedy the situation with grace, if allowed.

 

His instructor merely raises a bushy eyebrow, incredulity clear in his reply, "Why, I simply mean his Grace Alfredo Incozzio." as if he is having to state the weather outside to a reporter getting drenched by heavy rain.

 

The realisation of who it was he spoke to has Ignis reeling from the force of it. Astrals above, how could he have been so _blind_? His shock forces him to stammer out a reply,

 

"Y-you mean-"

 

"The very one in the same who helps to make up and arrange one third of our export profits." Mr. Tacitus interrupts, looking at Ignis with an admonishing look before giving an exasperated sigh, smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, "Though I suppose I have been rather demanding with your attention this term, and you have never been the best with faces."

 

The comment tacked on at the end makes Ignis blush slightly in embarrassment as his tutor continues.

 

"I thought it a bit strange that he had written to you, though as future adviser to the price of Insomnia you could help strengthen further trade deals, so I can understand the contact. I suppose you haven't had the opportunity to reply to him yet?" His question lingers for a moment as Ignis shakes his head in reply, forgetting his manners for a moment before responding,

 

"A-ah, no, sir, I'm afraid I had not given the letter much consideration since last reading it, and the invitation was not included in the envelope."

 

Mr. Tacitus nods in response, confirming Ignis's suspicions that his tutor had access to the letter all along, so as to monitor his activities and loyalty to the crown.

 

"I suppose I shall have to order ferry tickets post-haste, considering the looming time limit before prices spike." he comments, moving away from his place at the head of the makeshift dining table to access the computer by his desk.

 

Ignis follows him, curiosity evident in his tone, "What is the point if we do not hold tickets to attend?"

 

His question is met with the deep and comforting chuckle of his tutor, "Oh Ignis, you don't truly believe the crown's postal service would dispose of something I personally asked them to store, do you?"

 

...

 

Ironically enough, it turns out, the crown postal service nearly do destroy the invitation.

 

It is only after a three hour solid search, sparked by a clerk believing he had placed it in the shredder for safe destruction having lost it in a pile of irrelevant papers, that it is found. Its location is revealed to be beneath the manager's paperweight on his pile of 'to file away later' items. Ignis may be on a close standing with his seemingly quiet tutor, but the man's reputation is certainly to be feared judging by the sheepish and guilty look remaining on the manager's face after his tutor had an 'educational discussion' with him.

 

With little enough difficulty, and King Regis's permission, the two board the ferry to Altissia with little fanfare, those on the ferry as well of similar attire giving it the feel of an educational field trip. When they reach the capital they find the Duke standing outside the university, chatting to some of the students before he notices them, a smile reaching his eyes as he notes Ignis's approach, but then dimming slightly when they land on his tutor. _Strange_ , Ignis muses, _was there ever issue between them?_ Still, the man waves them over, temporary fall in enthusiasm all but gone from his face as he guides them around the campus before the speech starts.

 

As they are shown throughout the buildings Ignis's mind wanders, ambivalent to the chatter of Alfredo and his tutor ahead of him. The early afternoon sun lights up the foreign sandstone around them, giving every arch and air of lightness and openness around them, so much so that Ignis forgets the cool shade it is intended to provide in the first place. Often there are gaps in the outer corridor walls with the view of the endless ocean stretching out before him, soon accompanied by a cool and salty breeze.

 

His eyes catch on a particularly intricate carving as they round a corner, the window arch thinning until it almost closes at the top and then opens up a minuscule amount, so that only a speck of light may emerge. From the tip of the window arch down to the base where it cuts off are carvings of people of all ages - men, women and children, all of different clothes and statuses. Some fishermen and paupers, others clearly nobles with opulent robes. Yet all are bowing down, hands clasped in prayer to the stone slab beneath, chips of luminescent material seemingly scattered randomly and inserted into the stone.

 

A warm and heavy weight settles on his shoulder and he is pulled from his trance, looking to find both Alfredo and his tutor looking at him with matching fond expressions, the latter with a bit of exasperation mixed in.

 

Ignis instantly feels his cheeks heat with shame and embarrassment, hastening to explain himself,

 

"Apologies if I kept you at all, I was just looking at this carving-"

 

"And what a beautiful carving it is indeed!" Alfredo interrupts, thankfully stopping Ignis from crawling into a hole of shame and never wishing to emerge again. "I cannot believe that I almost did a tour and failed to show you both such a beautiful piece."

 

He raises a hand, beckoning Master Tacitus over and then indicating to a gathering of the dully shining chips on the stone slab, "You see those pieces of mother of pearl there? Though a scrabbled mess in the daylight, when the sun is setting and the moon is rising there is a mirror," a gesture behind himself to a small mirror placed at the top of the corner behind them, "and it reflects the dying light onto the carving."

 

Alfredo pauses, digging in his pocket a moment before pulling out a phone a turning the light on, bringing it up to the stone slab, and Ignis feels his breath leave him.

 

Deeply set into the stone is the Hydrean herself, her coiled, shimmering body made out of the carefully placed shards of mother of pearl. Her expression is serene, though Ignis cannot fathom how the artist and stonemason were able to depict that on Leviathan. While the Astral is beautifully portrayed, there is one thing the strikes out stronger to Ignis in contrast to the glamour of the Archaen, and he moves to touch one of the figures.

 

Alfredo notices his movement and chuckles, looking to Tacitus, "You've got a bright student indeed, Master Tacitus! Not many people notice the figures in the water with Leviathan, they are often too focused on her beauty."

 

"And what, exactly, do these figures represent?" Master Tacitus asks, curiosity ringing clear in his voice, free from any contempt.

 

Smiling, Alfredo gestures to himself, "Why ourselves, of course! The people at the top half all appear different, yet in the waters reflected by the moonlight and Leviathan, they are all the same. Everyone's true image is revealed in the faces of the Gods."

 

Those words stick with Ignis throughout the rest of the day, ringing through his head as the reports on competitive educational funding go (mostly) though one ear and out the other. And as they part ways, his tutor promising to say in touch and arrange another event, as Ignis waves from the passenger seat of the car, as they bed in a hotel for the night before catching the returning ferry home, that is not the thought that accompanies Ignis to his sleep. For not once since encountering the sculpture until they parted did Alfredo take his hand off of Ignis's shoulder.

 

...

 

 

"Set your back a little straighter, and be sure to _crouch_ this time." The command echoes throughout the dusty training courtyard, hot sunlight hitting the dirt floor with its full summer glory, still vibrant and scorching in the early evening. An errant breeze runs across the court but aside from that the area is still, all other crownsguard and 'glaives finished with their drills for the day.

 

 

Frustrated yet determined Ignis nods, a huff of air escaping him as he repositions his stance and lifts a hand to rearrange his glasses, holding back a sigh when he only further adds to the dirt already on his face. He's been sparring for two hours now, and despite Gladio's reassurances that lessons will get through to him (or rather, beaten into him) with time, Ignis only feels worse off than he was at the start. Were it not for the fact that he knows he'd be quickly bested, he might have run at the instructor, felling him in righteous anger and vengeance. For now, though, he just settles for holding the training sword steady, sweating in the still lingering heat of the day as he waits for his instructor to move.

 

The immortal has him on his knees again before he knows it.

 

"Perhaps we should leave it at that for today." Cor says, turning away from Ignis's badly held form after taking his training sword off of him to go and place it back on the rack. He doesn't offer him a hand up, but Ignis expects this and is grateful for this as he quickly brushes away budding tears of frustration before they can build into a stream.

 

They've been practising this routine with swords for weeks now, and time after time he has failed to make any large improvement. Ignis knows on an intellectual level that such skills come with years of practice, but that doesn't halt the instinctual envy and growing seed of self-loathing that arises when Gladio swings his broadsword like he is cutting butter out of air. He may not be the King's Shield, but his advisor must be sharp like a blade as well.

 

Cor's voice pulls him from his line of thinking, "I can see you're putting a lot of effort into this, but I don't think fighting this style is best suited for you." He then looks at Ignis with the same calculating intensity he always has, but Ignis feels as if he weighing up his chances with Ignis, of how much time and effort he will put in to a sunken cost. Finally, he speaks, "Pick a different weapon tomorrow, and we'll go from there."

 

Ignis nods, not trusting himself to speak just yet, and bows briefly to Cor before making his way along the hall to his chambers. He'd rather wash at home instead of running the risk of bumping into Gladio and being asked how he was doing, only to break down. Shame clouds his thoughts and makes him tight lipped as he walks towards the exit, speeding up his stride. He is just about to leave when Cor calls out,

 

"Oh, and Ignis? Tacitus informed me that another parcel arrived for you from Accordo. The mail department have already checked it if you want to collect it from them."

 

The news surprises Ignis a little and yet doesn't at the same time. Clearing his throat he replies cordially, "Thank you, Marshall." and nods his head before leaving the courtyard, changing his course to head to the mail room before it shuts for the night, not trusting himself to collect the parcel in the morning if he sleeps on it.

 

Alfredo has remained consistent in his contact with Ignis, something his tutor has even encouraged to help Lucis strengthen ties with foreign dignitaries and learn about the laws that dictate the land as a whole, instead of just Insomnia. His letters remain ever cordial, his jolly yet suave tone unchanging even as he wrote of banal subjects or de-constructed theses of ever shifting politics, something even King Regis was happy to hear his insight on. Yet Ignis feels a growing sense of unease as he notes once occasional and now more frequent personal mentions in the letters, how he wished Ignis could be enjoying this wonderful view with him, or how he picked up a lovely new dish in Altissia that Ignis just _had_ to taste test.

 

The snippets were unharmful in and of themselves, at least Ignis had initially reasoned. But then he started asking more of how Ignis was doing, what activities he liked, if there was _anyone_ he liked, and what had once felt like a comfortable and relaxed business relationship has started to morph into a cloying and intrusive feeling of a man wanting to be best friends with a boy.

 

Ignis arrives at the post office much earlier than he expects, snapping out of the tugging swirl of his thoughts as he notices the sign and hanging lights. He knocks on the door and waits to hear the monotonous 'come in' be called out before he enters, closing the door gently behind himself. The employee at the front desk (presumably Garry, if going by the name tag is a reliable source - Ignis always feels a flush of shame whenever he forgets his name) scrawls on the paper for a few moments in a lopsided, inky mess before eventually looking up and recognising Ignis,

 

"Ah, Ignis, wondered if you were going to come around to pick it up today." he comments as he vacates his seat, moving to collect the parcel from the back as he calls out, "Was the Marshall as kind as ever today?"

 

Huffing a quiet laugh at their running inside joke, Ignis replies, "Only as kind as he needs to be." and hears a laugh in response echo from the back room. The harsh fluorescent lighting and the persistent tick of a clock inside the office grates on his already worn nerves after a long day of lessons and training, but the quiet atmosphere of the room helps to calm him at the same time - an odd tandem of contrasts.

 

Garry is still laughing to himself a bit as he returns from the back room, battered parcel in hand with tape that says 'HEAVY' as he passes it over to Ignis, "My cousin in the Crownsguard gets all the tough training he needs from the Marshall, so trust me when I say have an easy night tonight 'cause you'll be feeling every hit come morning."

 

"I believe I shall." Ignis says, and takes the pre-opened parcel, almost dropping it with a faltering wrist, righting himself before it falls on the table. He looks up to see Garry with a sheepish expression, hands outstretched as if to catch the offending item.

  
"Sorry - forgot to warn you before you took it. The heavy sign on this is understatement of the year."

 

"Not at all," Ignis replies, adjusting his grip on the parcel to tuck it beneath his armpit. "What are the contents of this package?" he asks, as the clerk goes to find the sent in recording sheet and deciphers his messy handwriting from earlier,

 

"Oh, just a letter and a book - a very heavy and old hardback at that." Garry explains, and then grabs his pen to note another illegible squiggle on his list, "You've also got clearance for packages to go straight to your room now, as well. Duke Incozzio has been vetted by internal investigators and," the man pauses for effect with humour evident in his voice, "given that the contents of the letters are basically just about the weather and well known political news, there's no real need for us to check anything."

 

For some unfathomable reason Ignis's throat goes dry at the explanation, his stomach tingling with nerves at the thought of there no longer being a barrier between Alfredo's letters and him. _I'm just being ridiculous_ Ignis reasons to himself, fighting against the innate wave of fear that flooded through him just moments ago, _Alfredo has been nothing but cordial to me_.

 

Regaining a measure of control, Ignis thanks the clerk for his services and leaves the room, wearily heading to his chambers to try and make some sense of all that has happened within the day. He almost bumps into Gladio on the corridor to his room, the older being on the other side. Fortunately enough for Ignis, he must have looked harried and unkempt enough that upon slightly raising his hand and muttering an apology, Gladio simply nods, and Ignis convinces himself that Gladio's eyes tightening in apparent concern is simply a response to the dying slanted light of the sun.

 

 


	2. Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues on at the citadel, but some moments remain more striking than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crikey, an update!

"Again!"

 

The shout is paired with the cry of metal clashing together, sparks being scraped off of the greatsword and polarm in equal measure. Ignis and Gladio face each other off in the ring, both taking a step back and then pausing to calculate the other's movements, strength and determination in Gladio's gaze and cool collection in Ignis's. Cor is outside the ring, standing under the summer shade of the barracks so that he can better observe the match, a spectator in the shadows.

 

Tightening his hands around the polearm's rapidly heating metal, Ignis grinds his teeth as he flexes his fingers, still shaky from the reverberation of the clash. Gladio's aura radiates confidence, though it is certainly not misplaced given the surrounding destruction of torn up mud and gashes in the earth in the circle around them, Ignis only just managing to dodge in time. The heat, though welcoming to their muscles initially, is now bearing down on them, weighing down their movements like a physical presence.

 

A small rippling of muscles in his periphery is all the warning Ignis receives before Gladio is swinging his greatsword up, Ignis back flipping in defence to avoid a critical hit. His opponent gives him no opportunity to rest, however, soon changing his angle and allowing his sword to twist in mid-air to a downward slash. Rolling back onto his heels, Ignis brings his weapon up to block the attack, but is forced to his side with the weight of the blade.

 

Gritting his teeth Ignis grunts against the pressure being forced upon him, the greatsword hitting the centre and weak point of the polearm, metal screaming in protest. A frustrated cry is torn out of Ignis as he manoeuvres the butt of his polearm down to the right and into the dirt, the catch near the blade taking the greatsword scraping his weapon with it.

 

Feeling the fleeting but euphoric spark of success, Ignis quickly frees his polearm and jabs it up towards Gladio, catching the fabric of his training suit on his left shoulder and forcing Gladio farther back from them. The next time Ignis jabs the polearm Gladio is standing and blocking with his sword, within the same distance and not getting any closer, if the frustrated light in his eyes is anything to go by.

 

They continue like that for a little while, swinging and parrying with no real progress made on either side except clashing at each other at intervals, the heat exhausting both of them until they are almost sluggish in their movements. Ignis pauses for but a moment as he and Gladio circle each other and then emboldens himself, jabbing up high as a feint, and joy of joys Gladio falls for it. He then pulls back quickly and then aims lower for his midsection and Gladio is forced to retreat even further away from Ignis, a scowl on his face.

 

And Ignis, but for a moment, glances over to Cor spectating the match in the shade of the overhang and thinks that even from this distance he can see a flash of approval in his eyes, _finally_.

 

His moment of distraction costs him dearly.

 

Because Gladio, while some may incorrectly think him a lumbering beast due to his fast growing size, can be just as quick and calculating as Ignis. One cannot afford a slow shield, after all. And so Ignis feels the parrying blow before he sees it, his polearm in his left hand being swung across to the left in a wide arc, leaving his entire torso exposed. His gaze snaps back to Gladio and he sees the predatory grin before Gladio rushes at him, no time to block or defend.

 

Ignis takes a step back first instead of, _stupidly_ he interjects, brining his weapon closer to him, and once again his hesitation costs him. Gladio raises his greatsword slightly and then slams it down on the polearm with great weight, forcing Ignis to drop it lest he break his wrist in trying to right it at that angle. And Ignis can do nought but give a nod of acknowledgement as Gladio raises the greatsword to his neck and he is forced to submit in loss, both of them panting in exertion.

 

“MATCH!” the Marshall's voice calls out from the sidelines as he makes his way from the shade towards the boys. He nods towards the victor of the match, “Good defensive work Gladio, you used a good move to finish it swiftly, but it could have come into use sooner.”

 

“Thank you, Marshall.” Gladio replies, looking proud of his victory but still slightly abashed from the criticism.

 

“Ignis,” the Marshall says, and Ignis looks to meet his gaze from its previous place on the dirt ground, bracing himself, “You would do well to remember not to get distracted, and that this was a match of disarming, not on points.” He pauses a moment to let the words sink in, before continuing, “Your offensive manoeuvres were much improved, though. Try a different weapon next time and we shall see how well you will fare in close distance.”

 

“Yes, Marshall. Thank you, Marshall.” Ignis replies, putting sincerity into the words. Even though there was praise he is still frustrated at himself for the fact that he let his concentration slip. _You don't want to get left in the dust as a willowy advisor by Highness's shield now, do you?_ Ignis thinks to himself, shame clouding his thoughts at his apparent lack of strength.

 

The Marshall looks over them both, as if sensing the atmosphere, and then nods. “Dismissed.”

 

Gladio and Ignis both bow as Cor makes his way out of the training hall, trusting them to put the weapons away as they amble over to the rack. Any hostile mood from the match soon disappears as soon as they as putting the weapons away, and Gladio reaches across to the water fountain and fills both of their bottles.

 

“Hell of a training match today.” He comments, passing Ignis his water bottle before sliding against the fountain with his back to it, sitting on the dirt and taking a swig of water.

 

“Indeed.” Ignis replies, and then nods in thanks as he takes the water bottle. He leans against the wall near Gladio, drinking from his water in measured sips at they both try to cool down in the midday heat, stretching their muscles in the comfortable silence occasionally to prevent future cramps.

 

They remain like that for a little while, immediate duties forgotten as they have a chance to relax and bask in the sun, masking it under the pretence of cool down from their match, _which really_ , Ignis wonders, _should we not be enjoying the shade?_ But neither of them move, and both are comfortable, so Ignis sets himself for lounging quietly in the sun before his next appointment on his schedule.

 

Then Gladio speaks.

 

“You looked a little stressed out yesterday – wanna talk about it?”

 

The sentence is said casually but Ignis has no doubt Gladio understands the weight his words carry, even though he cannot understand the weight Ignis's reply will have. Ignis glances over to him and Gladio doesn't meet his gaze, instead staring out at the marble pillars with faint and fine gold detailing inlaid ahead of them, the stark white and gold shining in the sunlight. Ignis knows Gladio is giving him the option of not answering by avoiding his gaze, but Ignis almost wishes he hasn't, wishes that he was more direct in his approach, just this once.

 

Even given the heat, Ignis feels cold as he answers, mind still focussed on the morning's revelation.

 

_When Ignis (blessedly, finally) got to his rooms, he simply placed the half opened parcel on his table and went to shower and then collapsed bed, forgoing dinner in his exhaustion, and dreamt a dreamless sleep. Upon waking, Ignis found to his pleasant surprise that the wall near his desk was shimmering in a strange pattern, aglow in gold._

 

_Bemused but not yet awake enough to start worrying, Ignis grabbed his glasses from his night stand and put them on, vision snapping into greater clarity. Making his way towards the desk Ignis realised that the morning light was reflecting off of a gorgeous golden inlay on the cover of the book Alfredo has gifted him. Lifting away the rest of the cardboard Ignis inspected the book and found a small note separate from the letter, saying 'I thought you may enjoy a classical book where you are the same age as the protagonist. Perhaps it will give better perspective.' Ignis placed the note down and looked at the book, soon feeling any happiness dashed from the situation as his stomach plummeted, confusion and spiralling thoughts soon replacing it._

 

_The title read Romeo and Juliet: A Romance._

 

“Master Tacitus just gave me a large reading assignment with a close due date, and I was worried about the implications it may have in clashing with my other obligations.”

 

The lie slips out of his mouth smooth as flowing water, and Ignis cannot help but wonder, _Why? Why am I lying to Gladio, of all people?_ But then his thoughts reason (lie, twist) _But what would it do to Alfredo's reputation if I am wrong, simply getting confused by cultural misunderstandings? What if I ruin his career, if I am the one confused and in the wrong? What would then happen between Insomnia and Accordo from this?_

 

Gladio laughs, breaking his train of thought, “Pfft – Ignis, should have known it would be something about that book you were carrying. Don't worry so much! I know your big brain can handle it.”

 

This time Gladio looks to Ignis, a smile on his face and he nudges Ignis's legs in an attempt to get him to loosen up. Ignis smiles back, the voice in his head's screaming now muffled as he lies again, “Well, I was going to try and get his Highness to attempt eating vegetables again, but I suppose I'll have to try and pencil that in somewhere between tomorrow and the end of time.”

 

He laughs quietly with discontent simmering in his stomach, praying that Gladio reads his hesitation and wariness simply as a reaction to his upcoming non-existent reading assignment. Gladio laughs as well, “Yeah, and I'll take up ballet, and Iris won't ever break a glass again.”

 

Standing, Gladio reaches above him and stretches his arms, letting his shoulders crack before dropping his arms as he turns to Ignis, “I better go and get cleaned up – Dad's expecting me to actually pass this chemistry test with decent results.”

 

“Trust in yourself, Gladio,” Ignis replies, unaccustomed to Gladio doubting himself, “It worked out very well for you today.”

 

Gladio gives Ignis a small smile, as if not expecting such a comment, “Only as long as you trust in yourself, Ignis.”

 

He then makes his way out of the training area to the showers, giving Ignis a final back hand wave before disappearing for the day as Ignis watches his abandoned chance to speak up slip away from his fingers freely like sand. And as Ignis stands there in the heat, dread growing in his stomach at the thought of reading the book on his desk and the letter to accompany it, his thoughts wander and catch, like a struggling fish in its final moments.

 

Why is it that he can trust in others, and yet cannot trust in his own judgement?

 

…

 

“Ignis, I'm bored.”

 

Ignis smiles from his place at the counter, chopping carrots ends and broccoli and lettuce leaves into smaller pieces with a steady rhythm.

 

“We'll go to see the rabbits soon, Highness. Or would you rather I feed you these vegetables instead?”

 

When Noctis pulls a face of equal parts horror and disgust Ignis has to repress a huff of laughter, reaching for another head of lettuce before washing and pulling each leaf off methodically. Early morning light streams through long windows of the citadel kitchens, the cream interior giving everything a warm and homely glow. The kitchen is quiet save for the pair of them, Ignis chopping and Noctis leaning on the counter, arms crossed, petulantly watching him in his new position (he was sitting on it earlier, swinging his legs before Ignis's threat of no rabbits finally got into his brain).

 

Even though 8am is normally a time when the kitchen is bustling with life and steam and fast paced orders, instead it is quiet on the Bank Monday holiday, the staff having been given the morning off before resuming work just before the lunch hour rush. Given the weather forecast for the day, Ignis reasoned that it would be of no use getting Noctis to study inside and ignore the sun. He might as well learn a bit of biology before forgetting that education is a requirement for all, royals not excluded.

 

With a final shake of the vegetables in the colander, Ignis turns the tap off and places it in the sink to drain, wiping his hands on the nearby hand towel.

 

“Would you like to get the bag, Noctis?” Ignis asks and is met with a positive affirmation, Noctis quickly swiping their fabric bag from the counter and holding it out in front of Ignis, an expectant look on his face.

 

“Do you think they'll be as ginormous as a garulessa?” Noctis asks, watching with focus as Ignis places all of the vegetables into his rapidly filling bag.

 

“What makes you think that, Highness?” Ignis responds, letting some warmth into his voice, pleasantly surprised that Noctis was able to remember such a creature from his lessons last week.

 

“Well,” Noctis says, with a determined but slightly uncertain look on his face, “Garula only really eat green things, and so do rabbits, and garula are really big so rabbits must get really big too, right?”

 

Ignis smiles to himself, unable to let go of such a brilliant opportunity, “Well, Highness, how about you eat some greens and find out for yourself?”

 

The look of panic on Noct's face will bring Ignis humour for years.

  
“Yeugh, never!” He announces, disdain clear in his voice as he pulls the bag out of Ignis's reach and then grins a triumphant grin that only ever means trouble, “I'm gonna beat you there and find the biggest rabbit and prove you wrong!”

 

And with that Noctis sprints out of the kitchen, leaving Ignis to follow behind in his wake, initially seeking to scold Noctis for running but being too happy to actually hold a stern voice. So Ignis runs after him, not a noble in sight but just two boys racing each other through the shining marble corridors in the early morning, feet slapping and echoing, wind blowing freely through their hair.

 

Ignis almost catches the back of Noctis's shirt as he rounds the corner and hears Noctis laugh in response – the first actual carefree laugh he's heard in a while. And Ignis cannot help but smile seeing Noctis running freely, limp barely visible when two years ago he could hardly walk and was in constant misery. The stark contrast almost jars Ignis but before he can dwell in his thoughts any longer they have arrived at the indoor garden, the gentle burble of water and sunlight seeping through the glass roof a pleasant and welcome sight. They make their way to the pens, a small section in the indoor garden allowing for the occasional keeping of pets if it suits the dignitaries or their staff.

 

Evidently enough, one of the dignitaries couldn't bear to part with their fluffy companions (as he'd heard from the kitchen staff the night before due to an odd request of broccoli leaves – hence the 'unexpected' visit to the gardens), but Ignis finds the action hardly puts him off at all. If anything, it helps put nobles into the perspective of normal (albeit ludicrously ostentatious) people.

 

Noctis pads across the grass with slowed movements, enthusiasm clearly tempered in an attempt to not startle the rabbits, and it's moments like this that make Ignis wonder at how people can fail to see the compassion and care Noctis harbours and twist it into dismissive behaviour.

 

They both enter the penned area, Ignis closing the gate behind him so that they can open the rabbit hutches and allow them to move around without entirely escaping their enclosure and risk getting lost in the maze that is the citadel. Noctis, still being cautious towards the rabbits' reaction, places the bag of vegetables down in front of Ignis and himself, and then moves to open the hatch. He then steps back and sits down in the grass, motioning Ignis to join him (which he does with some reluctance – grass stains will irritate the cleaners but at least it does not show well on Noctis's black clothing).

 

There is silence for a little while, excluding the occasional scratching sound coming from the hutches before a honey coloured bunny with a white belly hops out of the hutch and heads straight to the bag of vegetables, munching merrily and happily leaving her companions behind. Emboldened by its movements, Ignis reaches into the bag and takes a leaf of lettuce, holding it out in his hand in front of him.

 

To his surprise, the rabbit looks inquisitively at him for a moment, before jumping straight into his lap, causing Ignis to let out a quiet 'oof'. Noctis covers his mouth and tries his best not to laugh as Ignis looks, stupefied, at the living, breathing creature that has just settled right on top of him. The rabbit looks at him for a moment in his stupor, as if annoyed by his reaction, and goes to nibble on his arm, prompting Ignis to bring his hand of lettuce closer to himself. Satisfied, the rabbit soon devourers the food and prompts Ignis continually to bring more.

 

Noctis tears his eyes away from the rabbit and looks towards the hutch, seeing two others emerging as if the all clear has been given now that food is being eaten. They are both a chestnut brown, though one is much smaller than the other, the smaller one having a white underbelly like the honey rabbit.

 

Cautiously, far more so than the first, the smallest rabbit moves towards Noctis, looking back and forth between him and the pile of food. Copying Ignis, Noctis takes a small piece of carrot and simply holds it out in front of himself, and waits for the small rabbit to approach. The movement is less sudden than the first but still quicker than expected, and before he knows it, Noctis is having to hold on to the end of a carrot piece with great precession lest he drop it or his fingers get nibbled instead.

 

Pausing, Noctis raises his other hand to pet the small rabbit and looks up to see the largest rabbit near the pile of food, though not eating but rather just staring at Noctis. A moment of pregnant silence passes and then the large rabbit blinks and dips its head, as if giving Noctis permission to pet the other rabbit. And when his hand strokes across the soft and downy fur, the rabbit does not startle, but rather sits there contently, happy with the food that it has had.

 

The two of them sit there in the relative peace of the garden, the silence only interrupted by the occasional bird call, and the sound of munching and shifting.

 

The door opens.

 

Looking up, they both spot a small figure from the side of the garden start running towards them. The sound of the door startles the rabbits from their laps, and they both watch helplessly as the rabbits scramble back to their pen, the honey coloured rabbit deciding to take shelter beneath the hutch. A girl with curling light brown hair and eyes, shiny black shoes and a lilac dress that has so many ruffles she just _has_ to be nobility manages to slow her decent just before hitting the side of the pen.

 

“You scared the rabbits way.” Noctis comments sullenly after she stops as if she could not see such a thing, looking to the current bane (henceforth dubbed 'bunny scarer') of his existence.

 

The girl, either uncaring towards the fact that she is speaking to royalty, or unknowing that she is speaking to royalty, replies with the air of someone speaking to a very stupid wall, “Scared them? They're my rabbits!”

 

Before the unnecessarily confrontational introduction can ramp up into an argument, Ignis quickly interjects, “What are their names?”

 

Noctis looks towards Ignis briefly and then nods haughtily with a 'hmp!', assuming Ignis is questioning her in her rights to see the rabbits.

 

Thankfully, the girl seems to have a bit more control over her immediate emotions and takes the option to steer the conversation to safer grounds (either that or she doesn't yet understand hidden implications, and the consequences a noble would face for those later on in life are daunting to say the least). “The honey one is called Flopsy, the small one is Fiver, and the big one is Ful! That's 'cause he gets all stormy cross like the Fulgarian if you don't pet him before bedtime.” she exclaims, a smile on her face before seeing the rabbit presumably called Flopsy.

 

“Oh, look what you've done now you silly girl! You've got your coat all dirty.”

 

She then proceeded to awkwardly step over the fencing, left leg then the right, before crouching down beneath the hutch and pulling Flopsy out.

 

Judging by the reactions of the other rabbits (who both soon hop out of the hatch and onto the girl's rapidly dirtying dress) they seem to be familiar enough to her, and so likely are her own rabbits.

 

Ignis looks towards Noctis sittings arms crossed, trying his best not to sulk now that the rabbits are not interested in them in the slightest, and decides once again to utilise his interpersonal skills. (He has started to wonder if Noctis will always be like this – he'd be plenty happy with it but he suspects insufferable nobles will not be).

 

“Might I inquire as to who you are, and whom you are visiting here with?” Ignis asks, stealthily snatching a bit of lettuce and enticing a rabbit over while keeping eye contact with the girl. Miraculously, it seems to work as Fiver (the small one, Ignis remembers) makes his way across with his owner none the wiser. Ignis places the lettuce leaf on Noctis's lap, and by the quiet “Thanks, Ignis.” he can only guess that he was successful in re-uniting Noctis with his recently made furry friend.

 

None the wiser, she replies, “Oh, how very rude of me! My name is Felicia, and I've come here with my great-uncle for a few months while he sorts out trade agreements or something of the like. In three months, I'll be 11.” She tacks the end statement on proudly.

 

Noct's mutter of “I'm already 11.” goes unheard as Ignis continues.

 

Ignis nods in place of a bow, and responds, “I am glad to make your acquaintance. As you probably know, to my left is prince Noctis Lucis-Caelum and I am his advisor in training,-”

 

“Ignis!”

 

He looks up towards the door, lost in the sound of it opening, absorbed in conversation as he was. But the moment Ignis hears the jovial voice he knows who it belongs to, and his blood runs cold.

 

Because there stands Alfredo Incozzio himself, holding the door open for King Regis as he makes his way through, dressed to the nines as usual, his brighter colours almost seeming gaudy in contrast to King Regis's solemn black.

 

_He did not mention this in the letter, he did not mention this in the letter, he did not mention this in the letter, he did_ _not_ – Ignis can feel himself starting to panic, startled as to his sudden appearance but he knows he cannot say anything here, unfounded as it is, and certainly not in front of his grand-niece and the King. Ignis can hardly imagine shaming someone so, and with falsely grounded accusations as such.

 

So instead he smooths over his face and puts on a relaxed smile, a short breath through his nose to even his breathing and he clears his throat a bit to level his voice. _Stop being ridiculous_ he tells himself, _what are you, a tattle tale child?_

 

“Your Grace Alfredo Incozzio and your Majesty King Regis, it is an unexpected but welcome pleasure to see you.” Ignis says as he stands and then bows, if not for Alfredo then for King Regis as he approaches them.

 

As they approach Alfredo waves his hand in a dismissive action, “No need for pleasantries now, Ignis. I know that it is protocol at Galas but surely we can pretend to be human here in a private garden, no?”

 

He then moves to his grand-niece who has since exited the pen. “Now don't you go thinking I've forgotten about you!” he exclaims and picks her up into a hug, laughing as he twirls her around.

 

“Grand-uncle, put me down!” she protests weakly, giggling all the while.

 

“Down?” He asks comically, and then says, “Well, alright then!” and proceeds to lift her up and pretend to drop her before catching her at the last second, peals of laughter escaping her.

 

Noctis takes the opportunity of the distracted guests to approach his father, something sadly dwindling as of late, but he still runs across with enthusiasm, “Dad! Dad! We fed _rabbits_! And the small one likes me the best!”

 

“That I can see.” Regis says as he chuckles, rubbing the top of Noct's head with his hand, love evident in his eyes.

 

He then turns to Ignis, the same fondness still there, “Have you decided which rabbit is your favourite, Ignis?”

 

Ignis huffs a small laugh, able to enjoy the gentle atmosphere around King Regis at least, “I think it was more a case of she chose me – or rather the food in my hand.”

 

“Flopsy's always like that!” Felicia happily interjects, something which Ignis is certain she has learnt from her great-uncle.

 

They continue pleasantries for some time, idly chatting with even King Regis taking his hand at feeding the rabbits (albeit with well defined instructions from Felicia which he took with a natural grace that any parent has), and discussing the general matters of affairs in Accordo. They talk and laugh casually, Ignis able to keep up with the pleasant chatter yet trying to keep his stomach from turning itself into knots. Normal. It's just a normal interaction.

 

Yet all the while, the large rabbit Ful does not interact, eyes ever focused on Alfredo, unblinking.

 

…

 

It rains the next day, fat drops hitting the windows and racing down in a cascade, the gentle lull of his classroom environment occasionally interrupted by the far off rumble of thunder. Pens scratch against paper, the skittering throwing Ignis's focus off, a testament to how shaken he currently is.

 

His tutor, Tacitus, is sat opposite him, working through Ignis's previous papers on his desk, letting out a sound of approval every now and again and, rarely, a sound of discontent as his pen makes its appearance and writes corrections in the margins. Dim golden light illuminates the room but cannot seem to pierce the darkness set upon them by the heavy storm clouds outside. The words on the paper blur in front of Ignis, but he knows the dim lighting is not the cause of such.

 

After their meeting in the garden, Ignis had been informed by Alfredo that the crown was currently sorting through a potential trading blockade that was threatening to occur between the two nations. To save themselves on endless bouts of correspondence (with all the greater risk of espionage involved) the two parties had decided on the Duke visiting Insomnia instead, in hopes of resolving the matter swiftly. He was delighted to inform Ignis that his visit could last for several months, though there was the possibility of it being shorter than expected.

 

When he had informed Master Tacitus the night before of the news he had seemed pleased.

 

“It will do us both good, to have another mind to debate with for your studies.” He had commented, smiling slightly before returning to index the page of the book they would be working on for tomorrow's lessons.

 

He had then gone to place the book away, Ignis bowing slightly and about to make his way to his dorms for some much needed rest before his tutor spoke again.

  
“Ignis, I wonder...”

 

“Yes, Master Tacitus?” Ignis had asked, wondering if he had forgotten to bring in a piece of his assignment in his haste.

 

“Well, his Grace was rather kind in guiding us around the campus when we visited him in spring. Would you be comfortable in guiding him around the citadel tomorrow morning after lessons?” He pauses a moment, moving to lean against his desk in a show of informality before hen continues, pride evident in his voice, “I am confident that you possess the skills to do so, and I believe this would prove valuable experience for the future. Goodness knows how often you will have to do this when other dignitaries visit in the future when Prince Noctis becomes King.”

 

And the fact that his tutor, rare but genuine when he deals out praise, said such a thing with great certainty in his eyes makes Ignis's throat go dry.

 

“Of course, Master Tactitus.” He replies, mouth moving before his brain even has the chance to comprehend what fate he has bound himself to, “It would be an honour.”

 

That is how Ignis finds himself now, trying yet failing to finish his current assignment, watching the minute hand of the clock tick ever closer to 10:30, his heart hammering loud in his chest. He knows he is being ridiculous, and has been told that he doubts himself when it is unnecessary. Doubting in others, though, is something he has yet to do. The pen slips slightly in his hand and he fumbles to right it, crossing through the ink blot he made in incompetence.

 

_Why am I so nervous?_ He asks himself, tumultuous thoughts circling in his head, the ticking of the clock puncturing each breath. Ignis knows, intrinsically, that something is wrong. Whether it is with himself or his situation he has yet to determine, but still though the fear takes hold, Ignis tries to fight it.

 

He wets his mouth, fighting against the irrational jumble of nerves longing to take control of the situation. _Master Tacitus will not reprimand me for asking questions_ he assures himself, steeling his nerves as waiting for a suitable time that he knows will not come to pass, his tutor mere feet away from him as he marks his papers, comfortably unaware of the storm raging inside of Ignis.

 

He breaks.

 

“Master Tacitus, I-”

 

“Ignis!” Alfredo calls out as he opens the door to the classroom, seeming to pause and shrink in on himself slightly based on the disapproving raised brow look of Tacitus and Ignis's shocked expression.

 

Sheepishly, he raises a hand to the back of his head and scratches it lightly, “Pray tell I did not interrupt an examination?”

 

Master Tacitus keeps his exasperated look for a few moments longer before dropping it, letting a mixture of a sigh and a huff of laughter escape him. “Only just, young Ignis here was just finishing up his essay, so I shall let you off the hook for now.”

 

Ignis stands from his desk, putting his supplies away as his tutor and Alfredo entertain each other with debates on economic policies, Alfredo even managing to make Tacitus laugh every now and then. He gathers up his shoddy excuse of an essay and brings it to his tutor's desk when there is a lull in the conversation.

 

His tutor turns towards him, “What was it that you were going to ask me earlier, Ignis?”

 

Ignis feels Alfredo's questioning eyes burn into the side of his skull, his stomach clenching with unease, uncertain of how to proceed. Instead of confessing, Ignis turns to lying instead, something he worries he has become all to reliant upon recently. “I was just going to request another piece of paper, Master Tacitus. That was all.”

 

He feels more than sees Alfredo's approval from the side of him, his tutor eyeing him up critically. “Alright then, but if you have any further questions about anything don't hesitate to approach me.” He then shoos them off, humour evident in his voice, “Now go outside and catch some fresh air, Shiva knows you need it. You're looking far too pale to be healthy at the moment.”

 

And with that he is with Alfredo, alone.

 

…

 

The tour around the citadel is uneventful for the most part.

 

Alfredo 'ooh's and 'aah's at all of the architecture at all of the appropriate times, as if he hasn't likely been near gorgeous stonework like this before in his whole life. Even in the summer storm some staff are out and about, those more in a rush and less prepared shielding their heads with their arms and briefcases instead of umbrellas like their more prepared counterparts. The heavy fall of rain on stone muffles their footsteps, their voices echoing off the stonework. It is only when they are approaching the winding outdoor gardens underneath the protection of the stone hallways that Ignis broaches his question.

 

“Apologies if I am assuming anything, Grace Alfredo, I had thought it was your niece that was from Tenebrae, and not your grand-niece.”

 

If Alfredo is startled by the question he does not display it, replying with ease, “Ah, so you remember our first meeting quite well!” They walk through the hallways at a slow pace, pausing occasionally to further inspect engraved family crests on the walls. “It is actually my grand-niece that is Tenebraean, having been born and living there for a good chunk of her life. My niece is in Accordo at the moment, bogged down with work and her husband away on a business trip. I figured I might as well take dear Felicia with me as an exciting trip for her during her summer break. The generational differences must have blurred a bit with age, it seems to me!”

 

He laughs then, as if he had told a very funny joke, one that Ignis was not privy to.

 

They continue on for a little further, Ignis beginning to relax more when there are no intrusive questions as to his personal life aside from general asks of his well-being. They visit the verdant outdoor gardens briefly when the rain lets up for a moment, Ignis displaying his growing knowledge of horticulture and botany with Alfredo listening, his full attention on Ignis.

 

It is only when they are heading back to Alfredo's rooms that Ignis will curse himself for his actions, walking faster an an attempt to avoid the huge crowd that would soon swell through the corridors as there was a large meeting set for most of the crown staff at midday. Some staff would be smarter than the others and use the back passages but for the most part the wide corridors (while often filled with people) were the quicker and more direct route.

 

In his haste he fails to notice a wet patch on the marble, the rain having cascaded from a sloped part of the citadel with overflowing drains, the Duke following closely behind him. He feels his foot slip out from beneath him, water coating his trouser legs as his brain begins to process the inevitable. He feels centre of gravity shifting and his stomach flit at the same time a warm weight snags him around the waist, pulling him close to a warm body with a gentle 'oof'.

 

“Goodness, Ignis, are you alright?” Alfredo asks, his hand a heavy weight upon his waist before slowly siding up to his shoulder, turning Ignis to face him. His voice is kind and innocent, the worry on his face striking and evident, akin to what a parent may feel like watching a child of theirs fall. But the hand his heavy on his shoulder, and the movements smoulder and bring a weight and expectation that a careful once over of a worried parent would not have.

 

Lost for words Ignis nods, feeling himself start to shake, but whether that was from the adrenaline of the near fall or something else, he is not certain.

 

Alfredo makes a clucking sound with his tongue and then takes his jacket off, placing it over Ignis's shoulders as if there is some cold in the summer heat that is causing Ignis's ailment. “That was quite a tumble you almost took there!” He says, injecting mirth into his tone in an attempt to cheer Ignis up, rubbing his hand up and down Ignis's outer arm. “Let's get you warmed up first, at least.”

 

He then places his arm around Ignis's waist, guiding him in an unknown direction before piping up with uncertainty (that Ignis is almost certain is fake by now), “Though I may need you to guide me to where my rooms are, if that is alright?”

 

Ignis nods again, and quietly informs him of which directions to take as they walk towards Alfredo's guest quarters, the Duke leading with his steps never faltering, not even once.

 

…

 

When they reach his guest quarters, Ignis seats himself on the ostentatious black Ottoman, as insisted by Alfredo. He shucks the man's coat off, laying it against the plush of his seat. Alfredo seems to be busying himself with something in the background, having promised he'd be back in 'Just a moment – a butterfly's beating of its wings' and then he went off into his bedroom, the muffled sound of drawers opening and closing accompanying him.

 

Ignis lets his eyes sweep over the room, the black curtains left hanging wide to let whatever grey daylight they can in. Coffee cups have been left out on the table in front of him, clearly used and abandoned the night before. He sits before the fireplace, currently extinguished but the rustic logs giving the room a more natural feel, a sharp contrast to the flat screen television above it. His desk tucked to the right near the windows is littered with papers, most bearing his loping signature, some blank, and a small pile of letters with a near illegible squiggle on the bottom that catch his eye, the mess constrained by the paperweight of a wooden ship in a glass sphere. For all that Alfredo is a noble Duke, he appears to be as disorganised as a common man. Though given the load of work he has been given, Ignis does not blame him for his (presumably) current disorganisation.

 

The sound of a door opening makes Ignis startle as he tears his eyes away from Alfredo's desk, watching the man saunter in with a triumphant 'Aha!' and then sit next to him on the Ottoman. In his clasped hand is a dark velvet box, and confusion permeates through Ignis.

 

Alfredo seems to notice this, and comments, “Now this, dear Ignis, is something I saw when in Altissia and the moment I saw it I knew it was for you.”

 

He then opens the box to reveal a pair of golden cuff links, an ocean wave embellished into both of them, mirroring each other. They seem to glimmer, even in the dull light inside, and Ignis swears he can see the detailing of the specks of sea foam.

 

Even as a gift, however, Ignis knows this is far too ostentatious for him to accept. “Alfredo, forgive me, but I cannot-”

 

“I know what you are about to say, Ignis.” He says, raising a placating hand as he steam rolls over what Ignis was going to say, “But these are actually a gift from your uncle, not just myself.”

 

Ignis's surprise must be blatant enough for Alfredo to register as he continues talking. _My uncle?_ Ignis thinks.

 

“Since he helps with a lot of the King's works in terms of trade which I deal in as well, I'd been in correspondence with him a few times since we met at the gala outside of work. He'd mentioned the difficulty of getting the shipments through this winter and was told that the parcel he'd shipped for your birthday had sadly gotten lost in transit.”

 

The comment strikes true with Ignis, biting his lip as he remembers his birthday in February, sans letter and parcel from his uncle, not hearing further until March with no mention of his birthday. _I thought since I am always in Insomnia he'd forgotten, but..._ Hope flares in Ignis's chest as he continues to listen to Alfredo ramble.

 

“He'd confided in me, you see, and asked if I could pick something out for you with the money he'd sent to me. Of course, I had told him about your trip to visit Jervins and had bought these in anticipation with his recommendations, but lo and behold I had completely forgotten by the time you had come to visit! I had figured I would not tempt fate by sending them through the postal service and when I heard I was to be visiting Insomnia, I figured now was the perfect opportunity.”

 

He looks to Ignis, having finished his story with a gentle sigh, “I do apologise for not telling you sooner. At first I had forgotten, and then I had wanted the gift to be a surprise.”

 

Disbelief wars with hope inside of Ignis. He knows, logically, that his uncle would not forget his birthday and would never disregard him, but the lack of acknowledgement this year had stung none the less. The story seems hard to believe, but Ignis has lost correspondence from weather in the past, reliable though the crown postal service is, and his uncle knows that Ignis likes practical gifts best.

 

Hesitantly, he reaches towards the proffered box. “Are you certain?” Ignis asks, worried as to what receiving such a thing from a visiting dignitary would look like.

 

“But of course!” Alfredo replies, all but pushing the box into his waiting hands, “They are from your uncle, after all. I was but the carrier! And if people ask just tell them the truth – they are from your uncle. He may feel a bit embarrassed if you admit to others that the Duke of Accordo had to hand deliver them for him.” He says with a conspiratorial wink, chuckling softly.

  
“In fact, let us try see you wear them now. Come now, arms out.” He says as Ignis moves to hold his arms out, and then takes the cuff links from the box and places them on Ignis's outfit, pausing for a moment to admire them before placing the empty box back into Ignis's hands.

 

He then pulls back slightly, keeping hold of Ignis's hands and schools his face into a more serious expression. Ignis feels his stomach drop as he waits for the man to speak. “Now Ignis, I know I may come off a bit...casual a times, but I want to you know I don't want to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable.”

 

Pausing for a moment, Alfredo seems to search for the right words before continuing, “There are some cultural practices that are common in Accordo and Altissia that may not be well known here, like that book I sent you.”

 

Ignis hastens to interject, “I am afraid I have not yet had chance to read it.”

 

Alfredo waves his concern off with his hand and then returns it to Ignis's, hopefully ignorant of the sweat growing on Ignis's palms. “That is of no matter yet, I just did not wish you to feel put off or cornered by something you did not understand. That is why we are learning, every day, no matter how old we grow. There can always be a relationship between people, regardless of age, because one can always learn something new from another.”

 

Seemingly finished with his speech, Alfredo appears satisfied when Ignis nods in agreement with his wisdom. He then looks at his wrist watch and stands, leading Ignis with him and releasing his hands before placing a hand upon his shoulder, guiding him towards the door.

 

“It seems I must apologise, Ignis. I have kept you for far too long, but oh you are pleasant company!” he proclaims, looking at Ignis with warmth and a sliver of longing in his eyes.

 

“It has been a pleasure to show you the citadel grounds.” Ignis replies easily, trying not to flounder under the weight of his gaze. _He's just lonely_ he reasons to himself.

 

The Duke nods and then looks up suddenly, as if having just remembered something.

 

“Before you depart, I'd like to show you a tidbit of culture I picked up from Altissia. A way of parting, if you'd so like.”

 

Before Ignis can so much as utter a coherent reply, the Duke takes his hands into his and leans close to him, placing a warm and slightly wet kiss upon each cheek before moving back and stating, “Safe travels! ...though considering we'll both be in the citadel I suppose that farewell is redundant in this case!”

  
Alfredo laughs and, whether out of shock or something else, Ignis quietly nods and laughs along, mind blank with static of what has just happened.

 

Opening the door, Alfredo guides Ignis out properly this time, commenting, “You'll have plenty of time to practice that farewell before I go!” with a laugh, and then waving Ignis off as he makes his way to his next class, closing the door behind himself. Putting one foot in front of the other, Ignis reassures himself over and over that it was just a cultural misunderstanding, just a cultural tidbit.

 

His gifted cuff links tighten around his wrists, feeling more like handcuffs with each step away from Alfredo.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh...this may have gotten out of hand in length? Tbh I think this story may end up with 5 chapters instead of the original 3, but I don't think you'll be complaining lol. And yes, soon things are going to get much worse. Virtual cookies to whoever guesses the origin of all of the rabbits' names ;) Please let me know what you think, comments sustain me <3

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyy... please don't kill me OTL. Initially wanted to post this in segments with all of it written, but my computer decided to almost up and die on me, and me nearly losing everything has kind of hurried up my posting of this. Please let me know what you think <3


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